As It Comes
by Harpy101
Summary: SPOILER ALERT. Begins 6 weeks after Season 4, episode 3. Some violent imagery, angst, comfort. I am a survivor. And I've known relationships that made it and relationships that didn't. I only undertake this with the gravest respect for the process, and profound love for these characters. I'll probably end up in A/U.
1. Chapter 1

The kitchen was black as a cellar and deafening. A constant pounding roar throbbed through Anna's brain. She recognized it as her pulse; she breathed open-mouthed, crouched, trying to be completely silent.

He was there. Again.

Somewhere in the dark, hunting her. Anna didn't know which way to step or turn but she had to get out of there, get away. She listened with excruciating attention, fighting the panic that pulsed in her mouth like horrible metallic candy. _Don't move yet, _she thought,_ don't-_

He seized her by the hair again, twisting and tearing her scalp. Anna screamed, the most hated sound in the world to her, the most hopeless sound in the world, the scream that only she would hear-her own scream. She was alone. And he had her.

Anna dove away from him. Her shoe caught on something and she went down and down.

She woke on the way to the floor, managing to reach out and landing on the heels of her hands and on her knees. Behind her then the familiar sound of the covers being yanked back and her husband's voice, husky with sleep,

"Anna!"

Anna crawled to a sit. She sat shaking, staring at the same slice of moonlight from the window, frill-edged through the curtains, that she had seen when she had finally dropped off. How long ago? One minute? An hour?

Her hands rang with pain, the stinging moving up her forearms and down to her fingertips. She stretched her legs on the floor, her night gown draped over them; there was a faint dark seeping over little spots on her knees. The scabs had opened up again.

He slid down on the floor next to her, not reaching for her. They had perfected it by now. She wouldn't let him touch her until she had completely woken up because at first she had scratched and slapped him, fought him. Even when her mind began to register that it was John her body, operating alone in its panic, continued to fight for what seemed like an eternity. She couldn't bear to strike out at her husband so he kept the agreement. He waited with his hands palm-up on his legs, blinking, moonlight spilling over his cheek and glittering on the edge of his hair which was ruffled comically from the pillow.

Finally she said, "I'm sick of this, John,"

"I know you are,"

"It seems like it will never stop,"

"It may take a very long time, yet,"

Anna was seized with the anger again and pounded her fists on the floor, the pain feeling very good just now. She gave a long moan of frustration, then stopped as he said,

"Please, Anna, your hands, please,"

"And meanwhile, what about you?" her voice was shaking, "You must be sick of this,"

"I hate what it's doing to you. I'm not sick of it,"

"Why _not_?" her voice had that bitter edge it held quite often now; she was afraid that he would get used to it. He never spoke to her in that tone. She had never wanted to use that tone on him. It hurt her to be treating him this way.

"Because I believe it will get better over time. And because it's you. I can never be sick of you,"

"How do you know it will get better?" Anna's head was suddenly heavy, and needed to hang down. "It feels like it never will,"

"They thought I wouldn't walk again, when they first saw the wound," he said. "And I knew people who were shell shocked and who had lost brothers and friends. It's not like what you're going through. They signed up for the war. And the way you were violated...it's different. I saw women who had been violated, what it did to their spirits, what it cost them. But I didn't know them. I can't know what you're going through. But I believe, I believe Anna that if we do it together, we will come through it the best way possible,"

"I want it back!" now she sounded like a squalling child to herself, and could not help it. "I want my life back! I want to be myself again! I miss me!" she laughed bitterly. "Do you miss me?"

"You will always be...if you were permanently disfigured, you would still and always be my Anna,"

"I'm numb sometimes. Sometimes I can't feel anything. No pain even. But I can't feel my love for you either, nothing,"

"I understand that,"

"You do?"

"Yes. I felt that way, for a long time after I stopped drinking and everything was so hard. It was like my feelings had died-"

"And then the terrors come back," she interrupted him, "In the hallway or...anywhere, especially if I'm alone,"

He opened his mouth.

"And I'm not that person, John! I hate it! I hate it more than I can say!"

"I know,"

"And I'm tired. I'm _so_ tired and I'm tired of crying and I'm sick of thinking about it and I'm sick of what it does to you. I wish I could...cut it out, rip it out of myself,"

"It will lessen. I believe it will. But we have to be patient,"

"You're always telling me that, it seems,"

"Am I?"

"I'm sorry," she was finally able to reach for him, lay her hands in his. He took her wrists in little feather-light squeezes, checking the bones. It didn't hurt. They weren't broken or sprained. But it didn't even seem worth saying that out loud.

"If you're angry," he said, "Be angry. Be...enraged. At me. And don't go downstairs alone. You don't have to do that, there is time for us both to be there. Come and get me to be there with you. When you are sad, cry to me. Just let it be me. That's what I want from you. Let it be me,"

"Of course it would be you," said Anna, hearing her voice ring hollow, as if he were a disappointment. It was not the way she wanted the words to sound, not at all. She reached forward to touch his chest. "It would always be you," she had to put effort into saying it now and felt false but under everything she knew she meant it. "My husband, and my friend," she held his hand to her cheek and began to cry again, her feelings rushing back, "My dearest, dearest friend,"

"One minute at a time, one hour at a time," he said, "That's how we'll do it. Let's stay close and go minute by minute, hour by hour until each day is through, and then we'll get through the nights, too. We will just take it all as it comes,"

"If not for you..." dry little sobs shook her.

"There's no reason to think of that. Are you tired, my darling? Can I read to you?"

"Tell to me. Hold me and tell me a story of your mother,"

"Alright,"

Anna curled next to John with her head on his chest, letting the deep, soft throb of his voice take her mind. Moonlight fluttered between her lashes as she teased in and out of sleep.

"My Irish great-grandmother told the story of the Handless Maiden. A miller went so poor that when the Devil showed up to offer him riches he said he would give anything. So the Devil asked for his beautiful daughter..."

The story was not a pretty one. There was a sharpened axe, a man cutting off his own daughter's hands, and tears upon tears. But for some reason, it was soothing. It was someone else losing, someone else being maimed. Would the miller's daughter come through? Anna followed as she could.

But finally, she slept.

* * *

Anna woke. The moon had gone down.

She slipped out of bed and padded across the cold floor to the window. The world was absolutely still. All the people she knew slept without a nightmare every night, innocent and unsullied. Anna couldn't stay asleep, even without the nightmares. It must be the stain on her. She turned and looked back at the shadow of John in the bed and hear Mrs. Hughes' words again, "But it's not his fault, surely?"

It wasn't. None of this was his fault, but he was having to pay the price for what had happened.

That was wrong.

Anna shivered in her nightgown and stared out the window at nothing. She would have to do something, but what? She couldn't keep dragging him through this with her. He was being so generous, so kind, but how long would he be able to sustain that with so much strain on them both?

It was time for her to take the situation in hand, to set herself to rights. She must shore up her courage and get past this. She wasn't sure how. But she knew where to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Anna crept about the room, dressing. She had finished her hair and picked up her shoes silently when she heard him roll under the covers.

"Good morning," he said.

She let out a breath. "I'm off-"

"To church," he said.

"I'll see you a-"

"At breakfast,"

"Yes," said Anna, bristling slightly.

"I love you," he said, turning to face away again.

Anna sighed when she met the cold morning mist, when she was headed for her sanctuary. She took her favorite pew at the back and went down on the kneeler, silently saying the Lord's Prayer as she rocked a bit on her knees. Back here no one could watch her do it. It would look so strange, but it was the most soothing thing in her world. When she came to the line about the valley of the shadow of death she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to push the poison out.

It felt like poison. Even though the nightmares had worn off he was inside her still, in her tissues and her thoughts, intruding every day, sometimes several times a day, in the middle of work or a conversation she would see his smooth, smug face; when she was walking with her husband, when she was here in church. He seemed trapped in her mind and circulating like venom. She could still smell him, his cheap aftershave and the whiskey in his mouth. Why? Why couldn't she be rid of him? It was over. It had been over for many weeks now.

She looked around the church, at the tall stained glass, and thought about sin. Original sin. The snake in the garden.

When he did enter her mind, she didn't want to think of a him as a man. She didn't want to call him a man or by his name. She needed something else. Then the thought struck her: the snake. "The lean Mr. Green," she'd heard the kitchen maids giggling, and he was, lean and sinuous and meaner than a biting reptile or any animal could ever be. She needed a name like that in her mind. The snake. It would help. It would reduce him.

She prayed for a while longer, pushing the snake away. Her heart thrilled for one moment. Maybe this would do it. Maybe she could cleanse herself of the snake, if she just prayed enough.

She rose easily; her knees had been completely healed for a month now. Her heart felt lighter. She turned to leave and met the minister, who smiled and stopped. Anna paused, reluctant to speak to him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bates,"

"Good morning,"

"We've seen a quite a lot of you lately,"

"Yes,"

"If there's ever anything I can do to help with...anything, you'll let me know, won't you?"

"Of course,"

Anna walked quickly through the church yard. Silly, she thought. It was her church, she had a right to seek solace there as often as she liked. But it did draw attention to be visiting so much more often. Anna cringed at the thought of it.

She shifted her miniature bible under arm as she pulled on her gloves, making sure not to dislodge the blue ribbon in the chapter of Mark. She couldn't seem to read it enough. It was so comforting to her that she liked to keep it close by. It calmed her.

Mrs. Hughes smiled at her as she entered the servant's door. "Anna, there you are,"

"Were we meeting this morning, Mrs. Hughes?

"No of course not. I was just hoping to talk to you about Lady Mary's trip to the new dressmaker, the one in London,"

"Yes, right away,"

"Church this morning, again?"

"Yes," said Anna, hanging her hat and unbuttoning her coat.

"Well, I've never been very devoted myself, so I've never had cause to wear this," said Mrs. Hughes, opening a handkerchief, "But my grandmother wore this and said-"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Hughes, I couldn't possibly-"

"It's been blessed," said Mrs. Hughes, "I know you're not a Catholic but I think it's quite pretty, even if small. My father was more of a Free Thinker," she said apologetically.

"No, I-"

"Only, I'll never wear it," said Mrs. Hughes.

Anna accepted the tiny silver crucifix as politely as possible, but why did everyone have to watch her so closely? Mrs. Hughes fastened the necklace behind her, then helped her tuck it inside her dress. "No one needs to know," she said, "But we should give ourselves such comforts as we can,"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes,"

He was sitting at the table for breakfast. Anna sat across the table and smiled at him, making an effort. He smiled back, with some resignation.

The nightmares had gradually dropped off, but so had everything else inside her. She felt very little now. She worked, she read her bible when she could and she got through the days. She was also drifting away from him and couldn't stop it. He seemed under a haze when she looked at him. She saw him, she knew she loved him, but she couldn't talk to him, not for long.

He was looking at her across the table. Her breath caught for a second but she brushed it off. She opened her log book, making notes while she forced down a bite of toast. She missed him, but she had to move forward now. She felt like a swimmer, needing to keep her limbs moving or she would sink under it all. She might make it to shore and be able to rest one day if right now she just kept moving. Her mind buzzed with lists through breakfast.

Anna finished dressing Lady Mary and several other errands, then it was time to go down the back stairs. She a stood at the top of the stairs and looked behind her. If John saw her going down he would go with her. In the first few weeks it had been a comfort of a sort, but after a time it seemed more inconvenient and less worth it, and even if John was there the snake would be too, and that was a different kind of bad. She had the ludicrous feeling that she was being unfaithful to him, because there were times when she was talking to him or walking with him that she couldn't remove the snake from her mind. And she couldn't explain why.

She paused in the doorway of the boot room with two pairs of Lady Mary's shoes, taking a deep breath to push down the familiar, but slightly milder, surge of nausea.

_The snake is not here,_ said the business-like and efficient voice in her head, _so get this done._

Anna took a break in the courtyard to read again. Whenever she saw the words on the page, "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone," something inside her unclenched.

She tensed again when she heard his footsteps and suppressed the instinct to shut the book. She had nothing to hide. Still, she always seemed to want to hide. From him, from herself, from everyone.

"Which passage is it?"

"Oh, just one I happen to like today," she shrugged, not looking at him. And it was a lie. She read the same passages every day.

'You won't tell me what passage it is you like?"

"You probably wouldn't understand," she said.

"Why won't you give me a chance?"

"Because we can't really_ be_ _everything_ to each other, can we?" she snapped, as surprised as he was, but staying the course of her feeling. "It makes no sense, John. We're different people,"

"I've upset you," he said. He waited, but she looked down at her bible again until he walked away.

What was wrong with her? She felt as if she were trapped inside a stranger, not knowing what she herself would say next or do next.

Why was she angry at him? Why did his presence grate at her so? Regret surged in her chest. It wasn't his fault, none of it, but she was acting as if she blamed him. She didn't blame him. But his presence made her feel as if she needed to be different. As if she should just be the Anna she used to be. That would never happen again. She didn't know exactly who she was, but she was not her old self anymore and could never be. And his presence just reminded her of it.

What if this was all that was left of her, this poisoned hollowness?

If she never felt differently than this, then how could they stay together? How could she keep doing this to him?


	3. Chapter 3

Anna sat in her back pew, praying. If she prayed to be cleansed, she would be cleansed. If she prayed for forgiveness she would be forgiven. Christ had died for everyone's sins.

The snake reared his head.

Anna breathed, tried again. It was becoming harder and harder to drive the thoughts from her own brain and lately the flashes of horrid memory were popping up at exactly the wrong moments. It was distracting. She would be in the middle of a conversation, or writing something, or thinking something through and there he would be again and she would be alone again with him. Her heart would pound frantically, as if it was trying to escape her body. She would try to find a corner to hide, to let it pass. But she never knew when these little attacks were coming. And she knew that no one would understand. It was over. It had been over. She had no reason for all this, as far as the world was concerned.

Then a horrid thought came: if she had been forgiven, if God had forgiven her, then why did she still have these thoughts?

Was it because she _wanted_ them, in some dark corner of wickedness she had never known about? Why else would they keep coming? It must be _her_ doing it, her own self. They must be her fault.

Her heart sank.

If that was true, then she had never been good. She had been stained all along, and was only finding out now.

This brought on a storm of anguish. Anna kept her head low as she weathered it, not rocking so as not to draw attention. She finally gathered herself and realized that she would be late. She bustled her coat on in a panic and ran for Downton.

Anna clipped past the kitchen, looking for Mrs. Hughes. There was John, ensconced in the hallway; out of habit he still lingered. She breathed past her irritation. He meant well and sometimes she did want him there, when no one else was downstairs. But sometimes she wanted him to go away. By being there he reminded her of all of it, all of her failings.

He smiled at her, that charming smile that used to her knees turn to water. She smiled back as best she could. Then the snake smiled. Anna shook it off.

"Have you seen Mrs. Hughes?" she asked him.

"I thought she was making arrangements for the trip to the dressmaker with Lady Mary,"

Anna frowned.

"But I've already-" now Anna had to stop and think. She spun on her heel and headed up the stairs. Mrs. Hughes was in Lady Mary's bedroom.

"Some of the new fashions will require different care. There are so many new fabrics now-" Lady Mary was saying from her seat at her vanity. Mrs Hughes stood just inside the door; she turned to Anna.

Lady Mary and Mrs. Hughes now paused, looking at her in silence. Anna waited a beat before saying, "Sorry to interrupt,"

"Would you leave us, Mrs. Hughes?" said Lady Mary.

"Begging your pardon, My Lady," Anna waited until Mrs. Hughes had shut the door, which made her heart sink just a little. "Has my work not been satisfactory lately?" This was a creeping little fear that Anna had shut out of her mind, but now she must face it. "Have I forgotten something?"

Lady Mary sighed. "It's only been the stray detail here or there. And no one blames you, Anna. After what you've been through-"

"But what-" Anna caught herself, calmed and softened her tone, "But...what have I forgotten?"

"With the new fabrics, extra care is needed. You understand,"

"I've made a study of them," said Anna, "And the types of care required. I want to do my very best for you, My Lady. If something is not satisfactory-"

"Anna, you and I have been together for a long time. And we have a bond. I will not toss that aside for an occasional mistake. And especially now...I don't want you to worry. I'm just making sure that Mrs. Hughes is also current on these things in case I need the help,"

Anna's face was burning. This had never happened before. In all her years of service she had never been reprimanded in such a back-handed way.

"Have you made the travel arrangements for next week?" Lady Mary turned to her mirror.

"Of course," said Anna.

"You wouldn't mind going over them again for me?"

"Right away, My Lady," Anna strode down that hall and back down the stairs. She snatched her log book from the hallway shelf and sat at the table, leafing over her lists for next week, searching for errors.

"Especially now," Lady Mary had said. They all seemed to know that she couldn't let go of it. Anna grimaced in humiliation. She was beginning to feel that she was a complete foreigner in her own life, or that she was looking through the wrong end of the telescope where everything moved so far away. The people she knew, the things she used to like, it was all a world away and there seemed to be no way of closing the distance.

Anna found two errors in her arrangements as the snake smiled at her from across the table. Anna shuddered, he faded. She needed to straighten things out with the driver. She would also have to go down to the village and send a telegram. She was about to rise when Mrs. Hughes stopped next to her at the table.

"Anna, are you alright?" At least she had asked it in a whisper.

"Yes. Mrs. Hughes, of course,"

"If you ever need my help, don't hesitate to ask. You'll get past this,"

After Mrs. Hughes had moved on Anna heaved a sigh. They all seemed to feel that she was hanging on to it. It was like being accused of hanging on to a hated disease.

Although she knew she would have to answer for it, Anna left that night before telling John. She wandered through the church yard, putting her hand on stone after stone. She stopped, one hand resting on a grave stone, her mind nowhere, her heart, as usual, shut away from her. It was a constant dull ache to have her heart shut away, but better than the assault of the memories, better than feeling what she was doing to herself, and better than the helpless feeling of being unable to change it any of it, to stop her life spiraling away from her.

"Who's grave is this?" John's voice surprised her, but only a little.

"I don't know," Anna started walking away. He reached and took her arm, stopping her.

"You've been coming here lately, too. What is it about this place?"

"It's late," said Anna, "And I can't explain it,"

"Please try. Tell me what you're feeling,"

"You don't want to know, John."

"I do. I want to know it all. You're so closed off from me, I feel-"

"You want to know what I feel?" said Anna, "Sometimes I think it would be better if I was dead,"

"My God. Anna-"

"You see? You don't really want to know. No one wants to know. But it would be better, John. The purpose of life is to be alive, at least alive in your heart. I'll never be again. I'm not the woman you married anymore. I'm dead to myself, I've lost all my feeling. I'm no good to anyone anymore, not really,"

"You _are_-"

"And was I ever that good to begin with? How could I have been so good, for this to happen? I must have been...there must have been something wrong with me anyway. I must not have been worth the life I had. I must have been lacking from the beginning,"

"That is completely, utterly wrong-"

"And by being that person, I made it happen. I did something. I wasn't worthy. Or it never would have happened, John. I must have drawn this upon myself. And what does that say about who I really was?"

"To hear you talk like this-"

"You're right," she said. "You're much too good for this. You shouldn't have to,"

"Anna-"

"I'm not going to kill myself, John. I don't have the will," said Anna, "Don't worry. I just need a walk. I'll be home later,"

"I'm coming with you,"

"Please don't. Please. I just need time right now. Please,"

His expression would have broken her heart entirely, in the past.

_Maybe some happy accident will save me now_, she thought as she wandered toward the village._ Maybe I could be hit by a lorry, or have a sudden heart attack._ This struck her as funny and she smiled for an instant.

Anna walked into the dark by herself.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no moon and the wind was blowing colder. Anna stood outside the Catholic church; she had only her day coat on, but she didn't want to go home just yet. She didn't know how to face John's hurt and confusion.

She had never been inside this church but had always been curious. She wandered in tentatively. It was quiet, with votive candles casting tall shadows. Anna took a pew at the back where she could be alone.

Three nuns walked down the isle. Two of them seemed to be carrying one in the middle, a nun nearly as small as a child. She was bent and trembling. As they were about to pass Anna's row the tiny nun put up a hand. They stopped. A gnarled finger pointed at Anna. There was some conversation. Anna overheard the other nuns arguing and the tiny one in the middle gesturing strongly. Finally one of the younger sisters approached Anna.

"Will you help us, please?"

"Oh," said Anna, "Of course,"

"Follow us,"

They went back through the church courtyard and into another building, through hallways and down a long set of stairs to a plain room, lit with a single lamp. The nuns deposited the tiny woman onto a simple bench and motioned for Anna to sit beside her. Anna was puzzled and apprehensive; what could this be about?

"Half an hour," said the little nun, and they left.

"I am Sister Judith," she said, and Anna had a look at the milky eyes, the worn teeth and the deeply wrinkled face. She looked to be over a hundred years old.

"I'm not a Catholic," blurted Anna.

Sister Judith laughed. It was the tumbling, bright laugh of a girl. She patted Anna's hand.

"A child was attacked by a mad dog, in Ripon," she said.

"Oh!" said Anna, "How terrible!" She wondered how she could help. It seemed such a strange thing to talk about. Being alone with a stranger in an unfamiliar place, even if she was so frail and petite, was unsettling.

"She should not have been playing so happily, that child. Nor laughed so much. She should not have been so pretty or sweet,"

"But-" said Anna, "Why would tha-"

"That is what a child does. But if she hadn't, perhaps the mad dog would not have attacked," Anna was fascinated by the melodic voice, which seemed to belong to a much younger woman. "Or perhaps something was wrong with the child? Perhaps she was not a perfect child, and that is why she was attacked and mauled?"

"But no one knows what a mad dog will do," Anna protested.

"AH!" Sister Judith laughed her joyous laugh. "Mad dogs. And some men. Men who will attack women and children, they too are mad dogs. No one knows what they will do. Not man's laws of science, even. Who alone has dominion over a mad dog?"

Anna was stumped. "Urm-God?"

She snatched Anna's hands. Her voice boomed out.

"_Are you God_?"

Anna gulped, her brain finally absorbing the point. But how could Sister Judith know? Anna's heart began to pound. The little nun waited, her eyes shifting under the cataracts. She tilted her head to listen.

"_Are_ you God?" she asked again.

"No," said Anna.

Sister Judith laughed, releasing her. "We are alone down here," she said. "Now we will talk about the poison. How does one wash poison out?"

_Poison?_ The use of the word startled Anna, reflecting her own thoughts out loud.

"Yes," said the nun, "I like that one,"

Anna bolted to her feet. It was much too strange. Sister Judith darted forward and grabbed her hands again, this time with the strength of a man. Anna gasped.

"You wash the poison with tears, with running water when you can get near some, and with the motion of water. We rock like the waves. Rock now, my dear. We will rock now. There is no one else down here," Sister Judith rocked forward, then back on the bench, pulling Anna with her.

"Sister, I-"

"Rock,'

Now the old nun loosened her shoulders, taking on a kind of animal posture, catlike. Her eyes seemed brighter. She followed Anna's every expression.

"What he did," she said.

"Wh-what?"

"He hit you. Split your lip. Bruised you,"

Anna tried to rise once more.

"I wish we could take more time, my dear," said Sister Judith, pulling her down with an almost terrifying strength. "But this is my last night, you see. You are strong enough. It must be now. Rock, and tell me. He hit you,"

The sob that escaped Anna now startled even herself, but the little nun leaned in closer. "Yes, yes," she said. "Hit you. Tell me,"

"Hit me and then-"

"Rock," the Sister reminded her, pulling her, "And then-"

"By...by my hair and-"

"Dragged you?"

"Threw me,"

"Threw you. On a table,"

Anna felt and heard a squalling moan escape her own lips. She seemed to have been captured somehow and now she could not resist the memories, which were beginning to march out in a nightmare parade.

"Yes, yes, good. Rock, rock. You were alone. All alone,"

"I was alone! And I screamed and no one came! No one came!" Anna was bawling.

"Alone," said the little nun, "And he had you,"

"I thought I would die!"

"Rock, rock,"

Anna paused to gulp air. Sister Judith was rubbing her forearms now and saying in a very soothing voice, "There, there, my little one, there, there, my dear, there, there. Yes, yes,"

When Anna's breathing had calmed the nun took her hands again.

"Now," she said, "You are a strong girl, and we are alone. What he did. What he did,"

"I can't,"

"You can. There is much yet in this life for you. Much, much to do. And so much bliss! Bliss in earthly love! Don't throw it away," She dug her thumbs into Anna's palms, making her jump. "Fight for it!" she urged, "What he did. Rock,"

The horror and misery bubbling up inside of Anna felt enormous, felt the size of Krakatoa. How could she possibly release it without being torn apart? But the little apple doll face and cloudy eyes stayed on her, pushing her, urging her, then soothing her in turns. To speak about such things with a holy sister would have been impossible for Anna. But now she saw it, saw the way it worked, and now she could not have stopped herself. She began to remember to rock on her own. She went deeper. She told it all, all of it. She nearly collapsed when she had finished, heaving, shaking.

"When the poison calls to be let out, running water, tears, and rock like the waves," said Sister Judith. "You've rocked before. Now with a purpose," she laughed. Then she abruptly changed the subject.

"You see this humble shawl?" It was made of grey homespun and had been repaired. "I tore it on a nail. Sister Magda made it, and she repaired it. See how long the tear was?"

Anna was relieved to be making ordinary conversation, even if she was now so wrung out and exhausted that she felt weak. She wondered if she would be able to walk home.

"Yes, I see,"

"How did she repair it? With one long tail of yarn in one single stitch, pulled tight?"

Anna laughed wearily. "Of course not,"

"Then how?"

"One stitch after another, stitching up the whole row,"

"Stitch by stitch. That is how one mends," said the Sister. She grinned at Anna, who was stunned again.

"This shawl will bring warmth for many years. It is a good shawl. It has a mend in it. But so much good will come of it before it is done. It will bring so much comfort. It has yet much to do,"

The nun slipped the shawl off her shoulders and began to place it on Anna's.

"Oh, no, I-"

"Show me the tear again,"

Anna groped with the shawl. "Here,"

"And how was it mended?"

"Stitch by stitch, one after another,"

The nun nodded, wrapping the shawl around Anna. "Go knock on that door, my dear,"

Anna knocked on the inside of the door. A moment later the other two nuns appeared. When Anna turned to look back she gasped.

Sister Judith seemed to have shrunk to half of her previous size and was trembling so violently that she was nearly wobbling. They carried her up the stairs with Anna following. One of the sisters spoke softly to Anna, motioning to a tiny room just off the hallway.

"Come in here, drink some water and wash your face," she said kindly.

"Is she alright? I should-" Anna began to take off the shawl. The younger nun's eyes widened in alarm. "Best not," she said, smiling. "And you were her last. Drink water, wash your face, and then go home,"

Anna filled the small cup three times from the pitcher to quench her thirst, wet the towel, washed her face leaving the towel folded on the edge of the basin, then found her way out of the little room and began walking toward the entrance door.

A distant voice, strong and melodious, echoed down the hallway.

"Are you God?"

Anna stopped. She lifted her voice. "No!"

"How does one wash the poison out?"

"Rock-like water!" she answered, losing all self-consciousness. No matter who might be listening or asleep, the words rang out.

"How does one mend a tear?"

"Stitch by stitch!"

"Goodbye, my dear,"


	5. Chapter 5

Anna woke warmer than she had been in a long time. She was snuggled against John's back with her arm draped over his chest and her hand curled in his palm.

Just now she felt soft, softer than she had in a long, long time. And clearer. She also felt fragile, as if she was held together with string. Her mind was pacing back through the night before. For one moment she thought she had dreamed it all. Then she glanced at the shawl, still folded on the dresser. She could even make out the edge of the mend.

Anna thought through all that she had learned. It certainly wasn't straight from the New Testament, but she didn't care.

Now she had a map. She had ways. When she started to think she had brought the attack upon herself, when the terrible feelings started to overwhelm her, when she thought she would never be better again, she had ways. She knew what to do. And Sister Judith had understood. She had understood everything. Anna worried for her now. So tiny, so frail, so old. What had they meant, her last night, her last one? And another, darker question: what exactly _was_ she?

John's breathing changed. He began to caress her fingers. She closed her arm around him. _So much bliss_, Sister Judith had said.

He rolled over.

"How are you?"

"A little better today,"

He looked at her soberly, tracing her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Do know how many soldiers, and sometimes civilians, commit suicide after a war? Many, Anna,"

"I frightened you,"

"I followed you," he said. "It was a relief at first to see you with nuns, although a bit of a surprise. When I saw you come back out I took a short cut home,"

Anna gave a small laugh. "Well, of course you did, John Bates,"

His eyes were searching hers. This morning they were a jewel-clear dark green, like jade.

"What happened there last night? Why did you go there? And why that?" He jerked his head at the shawl on the dresser.

"I just wandered there. I didn't go with a purpose...And I need it to settle first, before I tell you about it. But...now I believe I will mend, even if it takes a long time, or..." she put her hand on his chest, over his heart. "I don't know what will come next. But I believe I can do it, now,"

"Do you mean we can mend?"

"Yes. But I don't know when or-"

"As long as you're here," he said. "We'll get through the rest,"

At the breakfast table Anna double checked her log book with a sharper mind. All was in order and would be ship shape after a few errands. She was buttering an extra piece of toast when James said, "Funny, these Catholic obituaries,"

"How can an obituary be cause for amusement, James?" said Mr. Carson, "That is highly inappropriate,"

"A lot of fuss for a nun," James said. "A vigil,"

Anna snatched the newspaper from his hands. The entire table paused to look at her.

"What-" said Thomas, "Have you converted, Anna?"

"Mrs. Bates to you," she said to him absently, "Mr. Barrow,"

The silence around the table thickened.

"No, I haven't converted," Anna said. She read hungrily. "One hundred and seven," she murmured.

"Twenty four hour vigil," James laughed, "Not much left to vigil at that point-"

"More than you might ever be," snapped Anna. "More than you'll ever understand, unless you make an effort. Elders have much to teach us. Your disrespect resembles ignorance. I don't think of you as ignorant, James,"

Mrs. Hughes' eyebrows had shot up. She was trying to swallow her tea.

"Indeed," said Mr. Carson.

Anna glanced sideways at her husband, who was looking at her as if she had just put on a new dress.

The snake had been gone this morning so far. Anna began to wonder if he was gone for good, or if this might be too much to hope for. She had a surge of creativity, searching out a good wooden box and some supplies, arranging them and then then taking it to Lady Mary's room after the upstairs breakfast.

"What's this?" said Lady Mary, opening it.

"It's a kind of - kit. Like a sewing kit, but just for the new garments. The thread that matches can go in this row and here are the new cleaning solvents, sealed up separate. Hooks and buttons go in here. I'll make one for your room and a bigger one for traveling,"

"Good, yes," said Lady Mary.

"I'll make sure and get the matching threads next week, with extra for the kits. It will save us time, in a pinch,"

"Quite. Thank you, Anna,"

"Will there be anything else, My Lady?"

"Just one thing,"

"Yes,"

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I think I embarrassed you,"

"Not at all, My Lady,"

"Stop talking to me like a lady's maid for minute, please Anna. I never meant to demean you. I was...trying to make things easier on you. But that was wrong,"

"No...it...not at all,"

"You seem to be stronger today," said Mary, "You even look a bit taller, truth be known,"

Anna laughed. "That's one hope I left behind long ago," she said, with genuine amusement. She smiled at Lady Mary.

The snake appeared in the hall as she left Lady Mary's room but he was faint, as if in a fog or through a frosted window. She had the sensation of being grabbed by her hair again in the hall, but only once. And the snake only showed his face one more time at the table.

These moments didn't bring on the same dread that they had, nor the same degree of sickening helplessness. The feelings were there, but watered down. Now Anna knew she would be stronger - but also now she began to have brief, fierce surges of anger.

She wanted to erase him entirely, to have an end of him in her brain, the end of everything that had happened. It was already over for everyone else and Anna was tired of carrying it. Now she wanted the life she'd had before the attack. She wanted it all back.

The day went long and was quite busy; by the time everyone had begun to go to bed Anna found herself, suddenly, alone in the kitchen. She deliberately walked to and stood near the spot where the snake had hit her. Her mouth went dry, her heart hammered. She jumped at John's voice.

"What are you doing? Why didn't you come upstairs to find me?" he said, entering the kitchen.

"It's alright," said Anna, trying to swallow her nausea. "I..." Then she had an idea. John was standing nearly where the snake had stood.

"Would you-"

"What?"

"Would...would you lean back against the table edge?"

"Why?"

"Just for a moment," Anna had to stop and breathe. John's face went to stone. He stepped away from the table.

"Is this...is this where-"

"No," Anna gulped. "It's just where he hit me,"

He stepped back further. "What are you doing?"

"I-I'm trying to erase him,"

"And am I the...eraser?" he said.

Anna took a breath. "Don't you want to be?"

He turned away from her, his face tilted up. He turned back and looked at her, his eyes blazing. "I want a...a warning, before you...do some-some scenario like this," he said.

"Well," Anna began, "I certainly didn't have-"

"This isn't just you!"_  
_

"What-"

"You're not the only one with nightmares. Every night I have the same one. I leave the concert and I come down here looking for you, like I should have done. I'm looking for you but it's pitch black and I can hear you screaming and crying for help, crying out for me to help you, and I can't find you. I can hear everything. Everything he's doing to you. And I'm powerless, I'm no good to you. He brutalizes you every time. I'm too late. Every night,"

She gulped. "I-"

"It didn't just happen to_ you_, Anna!" He stood apart from her, his voice gone so low she almost couldn't hear him. "It happened to us_."__  
_

She couldn't move as he threw on his coat and hat and was out the door. Then she saw two things very clearly.

First - he was right. Though John seemed to have the patience of Job she had drifted away lately, only to scare him one night and then to ambush him the next. That would have been a lot to throw at anyone. It was time for her to start thinking of herself _and_ him. She was ready to do both now, or at least to begin.

And the second thing she now saw...she had just tried to mend a tear with one stitch.


	6. Chapter 6

Anna was dressed. She paused to watch John breathing in the bed, admiring the clean lines of his profile on the pillow, the rich curve of boyish cheek, the dark of his hair and eyebrows in contrast to his fair skin. Just now, sleeping, he captivated her. It had been some time since she had really looked at him._ My beautiful husband,_ she thought, drinking him in. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, kissing his cheek, his temple, his brow. He inhaled, opening his eyes. He lifted a hand from the covers and cupped her cheek, bringing her in for another kiss.

"I know I've been drifting away," she said, "And I've been making things hard on you. And I'm going to stop that now. I love this marriage and I want this marriage,"

"Then mind how you're speaking,"

"What do you mean?"

"A marriage is an us, Anna,"

She sighed. "One minute we're closer together and then the next we're drifting apart again, like...like boats on choppy water,"

"We just have to be determined sailors," he took her hand, weaving their fingers together. His eyes were locked on hers. "You cannot expect me to accept not being in your heart," he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. It was true, she had been only sharing certain things and cutting him off from others. The feeling between them wasn't the way it used to be; maybe it never would be, now.

Anna shook her head, "I may never be the same,"

"You're Anna,"

"But-"

"You don't have to be the same. All you have to do is open your heart to me again,"

She let go of his hand and pulled in on herself. "There are things I will never be able to tell you-"

He was rubbing his forehead. "Not...not details," he sighed, "But how you felt-"

Anna shrank. "I don't want you to have any more of these feelings. You've been forced to witness them anyway-"

He sat up in bed now. "Stop protecting me from the thing I need the most. Stop protecting me from you!"

Anna stood. "How can I?"

"You have to. We can't get back on track until you do,"

Anna wanted to leave the room. She forced herself to stay still. "There's a funeral. For a nun. I'm off to that this morning, then I'll see you at breakfast,"

"Don't you know that I love you?" he said. "Do you doubt?"

She shook her head. "I don't doubt. But no one's generosity of spirit lasts forever,"

* * *

Anna approached the churchyard. Her breath hung in the frosted air as she crunched over the silver-crusted, frozen grass that was beginning to sparkle in the morning sun. She could see the party of nuns and the priest at their service, but hung back. She shifted her feet nervously then noticed the other women wandering in, several of them standing apart from the service as she was. Anna recognized a few of them from the village. One approached another, they spoke, then another joined them. Two were wearing homespun shawls with mending. Then Anna noticed a handful of men as well, hesitating further back at the edges of the churchyard. Anna was transfixed until a voice surprised her.

"Hello,"

"Hello," said Anna. She recognized the young woman from the cheese shop in the village. "I'm-"

"Mrs. Bates," she smiled, "I'm Elinor Snow,"

"Of course,"

"Good to see you," said Elinor, her eyes lingering on Anna's, then moving away shyly, "I'm going to say hello to some other people," she said, after a moment.

A taller woman in a fine hat was making her way through the churchyard, speaking to several women. Anna recognized Mrs. Isobel Crawley.

"Anna! Hello,"

"Mrs. Crawley," Anna smiled at her awkwardly.

"Did you know Sister Judith?"

Anna avoided her eyes, then met them directly. "I did,"

"She had quite a reputation, you know,"

"I-I didn't know,"

"Oh, yes. It's said she was once suspected of heresy,"

"Oh?"

"But the way I've heard it, the only witchcraft she dispensed was grandmother-style common sense. She was never formally investigated. I believe that even the occasional bishop is wise enough to put results before policy. She helped so many people. She was kept quite busy during the war. No one was better with shell-shock,"

"So she was a..."

"A folk healer, I suppose you could say,"

"But then...why be a nun?"

"How best to reach the most people who needed her? I saw her a few weeks ago, myself. I'd been grieving Matthew quite badly one day and...well, you know, I think she found me," Anna was absorbing this when Mrs. Crawley spoke again.

"I give a women's tea at my house about every fortnight," she said. "It's a bit of an unusual social mix, but quite convivial. Women from the shops at the village come, nurses from the hospital, women from the farms. We had a real suffragette here last month, visiting from the States. But most of the time we don't have a guest speaker; it's just a tea for women. We talk about our lives, as much or as little as we choose. We'd love to have you. I should warn you that we're gaining a reputation for plotting insurrection - though no one can prove it," she laughed.

Anna stared at her for only a beat. "Yes," she said, "I would like to join you,"

She walked back to Downton with a strange new feeling. For months now she had felt exposed, needing to hide. This morning had given her the feeling that she was less a dangling pendant and more a bead on a string of beads. She felt stronger, calmer. When she saw certain women in the village now, she would be reminded.

* * *

Anna was striding by the kitchen when she heard a soft argument; the voices belonged to a man and a woman. She walked in to see Erma, a young kitchen maid, springing away from James, who straightened his waistcoat. Erma was pale.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," said James.

"Erma?"

The girl shook her head.

"James, please leave us," said Anna.

"We were only-" he began.

"James, I have asked you to go,"

"What is it you have against me suddenly, Mrs. Bates?" he sneered the last words.

"You'll not turn this into a personal issue between you and myself," said Anna, "It's quite clear what was going on in here and the rules of the house are quite clear. Now you will explain to Mr. Carson why I have asked you to leave the kitchen. Or I will do it for you,"

The footman gaped at her, his face reddening.

"You can't-"

"You are welcome to test me, if it will clarify our respective positions in this house and your moral standing at this very moment, James,"

He stomped from the kitchen. Anna turned to Erma, who was frozen against a counter.

"Erma, you're a good girl," said Anna. "And you work hard,"

"I am. I-I do,"

"But you play with fire. You need to look after yourself,"

"I look after myself!"

"Look harder," said Anna. "It's time to look harder and do some growing up, Erma,"

Anna strode out of the kitchen and nearly ran down Mrs. Hughes.

"Come into my office, Anna, I must speak with you,"

They paused in the doorway.

"I hope-I hope I did not usurp your authority in any way with what I just said,"

"Well, it is about exactly that," said Mrs. Hughes, "I want to talk to you about apprenticing,"

"What?"

"In the coming years I'll be needing a second. And I'll need to train my replacement at some point anyway,"

"That is many years away, surely,"

"I hope so. And I'm healthy as a horse. But it's not too soon for me to start training my apprentice. I always knew you were head housekeeper material. You could do my job, one day," she said.

John stopped in the doorway. Mrs. Hughes smiled at him then looked back at Anna.

"If you'd even want it," she said.

"Sorry to intrude," said John.

"Not at all, Mr. Bates,"

He looked at Anna. "Are you ready to head home?"

"Yes,"

The moon was creeping up. There was only a slight wind, but quite cold. Shadows of branches wavered on the road as they creaked above. They walked most of the way in silence, Anna wondering again how to close the distance between them without hurting him more than she already had. They had arrived home when he spoke.

"So what was that all about?"

"Oh. Mrs. Hughes seems to think I could be a head housekeeper. She wants to begin training me,"

"You could be any of a thousand things," he said, opening the cottage door, "You can be anything you want,"

She hung their hats and coats and stood near the door while he lit the lamp. She was trying to push the tears down. There had been enough tears.

He looked up at her, waiting.

"I just want one thing," she said, and her voice broke, "I want to be your wife,"

He didn't move, but his voice was tender. "You are my wife,"

"Marrying you was what I'd always wanted. Even before I knew you, you were what I wanted,"

He sat on the couch and held out his arm for her. She sat next to him. He took her hands.

"When he attacked you and no one was there to help, it was probably the most alone you've ever felt," his voice was thickening, "And my dearest wish is that I could go back in time and change it," he sighed, "When the fears come back or you can't sleep or if we argue, I want you to remember that you aren't alone. You'll always be the dearest person in the world to me.

"You said something before you left this morning, about generosity of spirit. But on my part it's not generosity, any more than it was for you when I had been condemned to hang and you said that you would marry me right then. That you had no regrets. I feel the same way, Anna. I would marry you right now,"

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. "I have something for you,"

"But...I already have a wedding ring..."

"This goes on your right right hand," he opened it. "It's a claddagh. If you wear the heart pointed in, like this," he slipped the thin silver symbol onto the ring finger of her right hand, "It means that your heart belongs to someone. This hand," he took her left, "Is marriage. This one," he levered the claddagh, "Is friendship, loyalty and love-the hands, the crown and the heart. It means I put you above all others, that you are my dearest friend, and that you are the love of my life,"

Anna could barely get the words out. "I didn't need a ring to know-"

"So you don't like it?"

Anna wrapped her arms around him; he pulled her in tightly. Anna began to weep, the sobs pounding her chest against his.

"I'm so sorry he hurt you," he said, and the flood unleashed. She hadn't cried to him yet about how much it had hurt, about how scared she had been. She had kept those tears to herself, hoping to spare him. He rocked her gently. "I'm so sorry, my darling," Anna gave over and wept until the flood had dissipated.

She found a handkerchief; he pulled her onto his lap, took it from her and began dabbing her face.

"You know," he said, "When I saw you with nuns I did have a terrible moment,"

A laugh burst out of Anna.

"I thought you had taken the holy vows and might be moving out for good,"

"You didn't really think that?" she was still laughing.

"For an instant, yes, I did," he was laughing now.

"I'm sorry about that, too. I want to-I want to start over and-"

"It's not about putting it behind us, Anna. It's just about getting on, just as we are. Together,"

"I'm afraid I'll-make even more mistakes,"

"Well, of course you will. So will I. We have to take it as it comes. One foot in front of the other,"

"Stitch by stitch," she said.

"What?"

"I'll tell you sometime," said Anna. "But not tonight,"


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: There are two Chapter 7s to "As It Comes". Both are denouements. Both wrap up the story with similar themes. I did this because although for many survivors the ultimate revenge after sexual assault is reclamation of pleasure and intimacy, for others it is very hurtful to even contemplate that stage. In my case it felt intuitively harmonious to finish with an erotic chapter, but I have profound respect for everyone's healing process, so this version is erotica-free, yet still finishes with intimacy, togetherness, comfort and the best revenge, which is to live past the injury and to love. _

* * *

Anna had been tired before but never like this, never this weary. It had been a rewarding finish to her first turn as substitute head housekeeper, with a praise and thank you from His Lordship in the library followed by a praise and thank you session in Mr. Carson's office. It had gone quite well, in spite of Mr. Barrow's plot. She was also looking forward to seeing Mrs. Hughes tomorrow morning and returning the honored house keys. Head housekeeper was a different job and Anna could get used to it and excel at it, in time. But in spite of her success these last three days, it had been exhausting.

She paused on the path, watching John walk past the cottage window. She stood looking at the warm light, the edges of the curtains they had selected together, the furnishings inside, and saw her life. The man she had always wanted was setting the tea service just in case she wanted some. He walked back across the room with his uneven gait, the one that always reminded her of his sometimes foolish leaning toward sacrifice and bravery. He was wearing one of his white undershirts and Anna was suddenly filled with a sensation that she remembered well.

Since the attack, every morning and every night lying next to him, Anna had wondered when she would want to have him again. She could feel the desire to be close to him, underneath all the monsters she had been fighting, but she hadn't been able to access it. Every day at least twice a day she had chided herself, goaded herself, and even despaired at times. He had reassured her in the clearest way possible that he wanted the marriage without the physical act if that was to be, and he had been loving and kind through the ordeal. And Anna knew better than to force herself; he would have sensed that immediately and stopped her. Still, she had pestered herself about it.

That is, until the last three days. There simply hadn't been time. She had been so busy substituting for Mrs. Hughes and so tired by the extra work and hours that she had left off the self-nagging sessions. She had taken a break. And now...

Now her heart leaped. Now, she felt it again, fresh and vigorous as snowdrops unfolding their blossoms under winter leaves- the reemergence of her desire for him.

She wanted him.

She shifted on her sore feet and watched him carry a book across the room, imagined holding him, kissing him, having him. The scent of him, clean and warm, the bulk of his shoulders, the velvet throb of his voice when her head was on his chest and his wide, encompassing, smooth hands. Anna's breath was rushing. Her responses were returning to her. She took in the lines of his profile, the melding of mercenary ruthlessness and boyish vulnerability that drew her like a craving. She thought of the way his eyes changed color with changing light, the thickness of his hair and soft hair on his chest, on his belly...

Anna opened the cottage door.

His face lit up, the way it always did when he hadn't seen her for hours. He came to her straightaway and kissed her. She held the back of his neck to draw the kiss longer. His eyebrows went up. "Well," he said, smiling, "Hello. How was it?" She pulled him back down, sipping along his lower lip, her arms going tightly around him. He held her face, his fingers trailing to her neck the way she had always loved. It had been a long time since she had kissed him like that. He hadn't forgotten.

Finally she said, "I'm knackered. But it was a successful trial,"

"No one doubted that,"

"Despite the plans of Mr. Barrow,"

"You're sure I can't speak to him?" He eyes darkened.

"Yes," said Anna firmly, "In certain situations I am still more intimidating than you would be. Thomas has no respect for strength or nobility. Only for-"

"-those who outfox him. What did Baxter say today?"

"He was foiled this time, so he appears to be lying low for the moment,"

"I still can't think why he would do that to you,"

"But it wasn't to me, not directly. He stole the storeroom key and hid it in Baxter's room to implicate her, to play on the idea that she would be jealous of me. But Mosely just happened to see him sneaking out of Mrs. Hughes' office, told Baxter, and she told me immediately. She knows his tricks as well as anyone,"

"You'll remind Mrs. Hughes to never again let the keys out of her sight?"

"It wouldn't be fair, not with that howling coming from the kitchen. Everyone dropped everything that night to see what was going on. And now that I think of it, Thomas could have been responsible for that little grease fire as well. He had the opportunity with everyone so busy,"

"Let's hope something happens soon to distract him,"

"I was hoping he'd meet a nice American fellow,"

He laughed. "Mrs. Bates! How shocking,"

She slid close to him, tracing his lower lip with her finger. She was thirsty for him. But she had no idea what would happen.

"I-I want...But I don't know-" she began

"I've an idea," he said, "If it sounds right to you. Why not...let me be your servant tonight? I will only proceed from your directives,"

Anna rubbed her palms on his, sliding her fingers between his in a little dance of hands.

"Will you undress me for bed, then?" she said.

He smiled at her, his eyes so warm. "I am at your service," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

_ATTENTION: CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE EROTICA. I don't write the explicit stuff, but this is very descriptive and contains some material that may be very intense, especially for a survivor. Although for many survivors the ultimate revenge after sexual assault is reclamation of pleasure and intimacy, for others it is very hurtful to even contemplate that stage. I have profound respect for everyone's healing process and sensitivities. __This is the alternate ending chapter._  


* * *

In a dream Anna watched John walk; he turned and smiled at her. The mix of his features, that blend of innocence and ferocity, was enchanting. Even with the cane his stride was long-legged, confident, his smile lifting the curves of his cheeks into a grin that was at once sly and adorable, his eyes sparkling dark on her. Anna opened her arms and he lifted her; she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was kissing her as she combed her fingers deep into his hair. His arms tightened around her hips.

The snake poked its nose on the window. Anna woke to the sound of a branch thumping on the pane and as the dream dissipated the snake shot away, quicker than lightening. It wouldn't come in the house again. If it was in the garden or on the street Anna could stomp on it but even better now, she didn't care much. It was beneath her concern. Let the wind throw branches _or_ snakes.

Her full attention went right back to the man sleeping beside her. His deep, regular breath created the rhythm she slept to, that she couldn't remember sleeping without. In her life she had never slept more contentedly than beside him. Underneath all they had been through for the last months, her feelings for him had never changed. The whole time she had been wrestling with all the monsters that emerged from the attack she had still been content with him, melting with tenderness for him, admiring him, loving him, wanting him.

And she wanted him now.

Anna's breath caught. She felt around inside herself. Was it true?

It was.

She wanted him. Her dream had made her warmer than she had been in months. They had talked about it. He would wait for her. He wanted to be married to her even without the physical act, and she hadn't been ready.

But now she was ready to begin again. Not to completely take him yet, but to begin. She knew how she wanted him tonight.

Then, she remembered. What if _he's_ not ready? A man is always ready, was one of her old thoughts, but this was a marriage. She needed to respect how he felt as well. Not only his feelings and not only her own, but both.

Anna pressed herself against his back. He stirred, rasping, "You alright?"

"Yes," she kissed the back of his neck. He rolled over, blinking.

"Yes?" he asked, stroking her hair and her cheek.

Anna pulled him into a kiss, which quickly melded her mouth to his. He cleared his throat.

"You need to sleep," said Anna, "I'm sorry,"

"No, no, wait," he reached for his water glass, took a few gulps and then was back.

"Did you dream?"

"I did,"

"How bad was it?"

"It wasn't bad. It wasn't at all bad,"

"That's good," his eyes had cleared.

"I dreamed about you,"

"And it wasn't bad?" humor had crept into his voice.

"No. And you've been...you have been wonderful, John,"

He began with a laugh but Anna caught his lips in another kiss, sliding her hand around his waist and pulling herself to him. Her hands held his face, wandered through his hair, cupped the back of his neck. She pulled back.

"This is a marriage," she said, "So I want to know how you feel about-"

"Whatever you want," he interrupted, his arms going around her, "Anything,"

She was nearly panting. She pressed her palm on his chest to feel his heart beginning to pound. She crawled up onto her hands and knees and began undressing him. He helped her, slipping out of his pajamas more quickly than she had ever seen him do. She laughed.

"Just-"

"Anything,"

"Don't touch me. Not yet,"

"What?" he was crestfallen, but rallied.

"Just let me-"

"Yes, of course," he grimaced, nodding quickly. "Alright,"

Anna threw off her nightgown, looking down at her shadow on his body. The moonlight came in behind her and she remembered; they had not seen each other completely undressed in-could it really have been so many months now? Could it?

"You're so beautiful," he sighed, "God, so beautiful. In the moonlight, with your hair down like that. You are Venus herself. I'm married to Venus,"

Anna was kissing his face, his mouth. She laid her body on his and felt him shudder under her, almost violently. She slid her body down over his and he moaned her name. Anna was tasting him. How familiar the taste of him was, how safe, how warm and how luscious again. He was panting now, gripping handfuls of the sheet at his sides.

She wrapped her hand around him and had a dark little thought she would never share with anyone, except him, when they were both over one hundred years old.

He was twice the size of the snake. The snake had been narrow and vicious, stabbing, repeatedly bruising her before he tore her inside. It had been painful to urinate for days after the attack. But just now the attack was long, long ago and worlds away.

Only her husband was here, long and broad and generous. He was everything she wanted. She would never allow another thing to come into this bed. No more thoughts of...never mind.

Anna lapped with a long, languid lap of her tongue. John made a harsh, desperate sound. She circled, dipped, enclosed him and drew long and deep, working her mouth wetly, tickling with her tongue, stroking him with a drawn-out, commanding motion. He said her name now with an anxious edge, almost like a warning.

"Give it to me," she begged silently, "Give it to me now, now,"

She hadn't heard a series of cries like that from him in a long time as he pulsed, nearly pounding in her hand, spilling little jets into her mouth. She finished him with devotion, answering his need with every instinct she had, drinking deep.

He was trembling under her hands as they wandered up to stroke the dew on his chest and his upper lip, as she licked every stray drop from his belly.

"Can I touch you n-?"

"Yes," said Anna, and she was under him, being kissed and kissed.

"Tell me..." he said finally, looking down at her.

"What?"

"Tell me that wasn't just for me," He gazed at her hard, his eyes darting.

"No, it wasn't. It was _not,_" laughed Anna, and her face was again covered in kisses. Anna soaked them up, soaked him in.

"Can I kiss your throat?"

Anna cupped his cheek. "You don't have to ask every-"

"I want to," he said, "We'll go slow, very slow, unless you tell me otherwise. Let me...let me be at your service," he licked his lower lip. "Tell me where to kiss you, how to kiss you and tell me when to stop," he smiled that warm, devastating smile.

Anna nodded. "Kiss my throat,"

He remembered the spot. After caressing her entire throat with his lips he focused on the spot just under her ear. Anna craned her head back and made sounds she hadn't made in almost a year. His lips crept under her chin, up to her mouth again.

Anna took his face in her hands and guided him down. He hadn't forgotten a thing. He remembered how to glide and tease, how the tenderest and gentlest kisses there caused the most pleasure, the kind that ransacked her mind. He continued until she pushed him down; he made a loving study of her belly.

Anna was quaking, writhing under his mouth. It was like swimming in clear water after nearly dying of thirst. Every touch of his was nourishment. She pushed him down.

After only a few seconds Anna realized what was emerging, and froze. She remembered, suddenly and with horrible clarity, the last time she had screamed. He stopped, looking up at her.

"Are you alright?"

She looked down at him, at the man who loved her, and realized she was ready.

"I-I'm..." she was oddly shy now, with a tremble in her voice, "I'm going to scream, John,"

He gave her a dreamy smile.

"It's-I..."

"I'll explain it if the neighbors call the constable," he said. Then, "I love you, Anna,"

Anna took a deep breath and pushed him down again.

She closed her eyes, allowing all the sensations to build, to climb, to begin lighting up every pore of her skin, every nerve in every limb, escalating agonizingly. Anna trusted him and trusted the ascent, depending completely on him, riding up with his urging and hanging on every tantalizing stroke. When it seized her she threw herself in. It was like throwing her body into a hurricane. She heard her own scream of pure pleasure, the sound of love launching full freedom, full release. Anna rode it through as he continued to drive her on. No pillows, nothing muffled, nothing made polite. This scream she needed to hear.

He knew when to stop. He climbed over her, wrapped her tightly in his arms and rolled over, bringing her on top of him.

"You're mine," she nearly growled it.

"Completely,"

The moon was drifting away from the window; now the room had darkened and all of her senses were filled with him, the cozy scent of him, the salty, electric taste of him that she savored smugly in her mouth like a stolen sweet, the soft fur of his chest under her cheek, his rushing sighs as he nuzzled her hair, his arms surrounding her with warmth.

They slept deep in the dark without dreaming.


End file.
